


Mugshots

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, as slow burn as 11000 words can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: Lexa always works the same shift as Clarke, doomed to forever endure all the side glances and slightly suggestive comments. Because there is no way the charming woman who flirts with all the boys is into her, right?





	1. Lexa

“Hey, Lexa.”

Lexa pushed her glasses up her nose, stepping to the side as Clarke rushed past her and into the break room.

“Hi, Clarke.”

Lexa finished tying her black apron around her waist, trying not to stare as Clarke inputted her employee number. She’d never admit it out loud, but Lexa always tried to arrive for her shift before Clarke if only to see what exaggerated face she chose to clock in with. Today was a tongue stuck out to the side and a cheeky wink.

“You do know that Mr. Kane sees every photo that thing takes, right? He has to approve them before cutting our checks.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Clarke hit the green button, clocking her in for her shift and twirled around to face Lexa, her tongue sticking out again. She winked. “What do you think of today’s?”

“Oh, umm…” Lexa pulled her glasses from her face, cleaning the lens on the sleeve of her shirt. The gesture had everything to do with the minuscule fingerprint on the corner of the glass, and nothing whatsoever to do with trying not to stare as Clarke snuck her tongue slowly back into her mouth, catching it in her teeth as she chuckled at Lexa’s flustered state.

“I mean, it’s definitely not your most original,” Lexa finally stated as she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

“That hurts, Lexa,” Clarke slapped her hand to her chest. “That really hurts. Here I was thinking I nailed it today only to find out that it’s subpar.”

Lexa bit back the urge to retract her statement, to tell Clarke that the tongue and little wink was actually the cutest thing she’d seen in weeks and that the only reason she said otherwise was her utter lack of confidence while standing in Clarke’s presence.

But as luck would have it, Clarke just smirked and pulled her apron over her head. She turned, holding out the ties, and Lexa, being the smitten woman she was, tied them just as she always did. Her fingers brushed against Clarke’s lower back, the warmth from her skin heating her cool hands, and Lexa had to swallow down the desire to let her fingers linger. But she was a firm believer in boundaries, as should everyone be, and instead, took an impressively large step backwards.

“All done,” her voice was an octave higher than it usually was, but Clarke didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks!” Clarke looked over her shoulder and fluttered her fingers in a sort of wave before bounding through the door.

Lexa waited a whole thirty seconds after the door clicked close to groan into her hands. “Why are we always on the same shift?” She complained to no one. “Why is the universe such a cruel mistress?”

“I don’t have the answer to that question,” Clarke popped her head back in, and Lexa dropped her hands in panic. Her face flushed a deep red, and she begged the powers that be that Clarke didn’t catch the first question Lexa had asked aloud.

It would appear that luck was on her side for a change as Clarke ignored her beet red cheeks and beckoned her with a grand wave of her hand, “But maybe one of the several caffeine-deprived customers who will be waltzing in at any moment might. Come on,” Clarke reached her arm through the door and yanked Lexa towards her. “You know I can’t do this alone.”

Clarke slipped her hand from her forearm and into Lexa’s open palm. She wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s, guiding them out into the coffee shop. The hiss of the espresso machine drowned out the pounding of Lexa’s heart as Clarke held on to her, even though it wasn’t necessary.

The two employees they were replacing sighed in visible relief, and with the choreographed ease that came from working together for about a year, they took their places behind the counter. Clarke smirked at her, squeezing her hand a little, and Lexa swallowed down the hope that the gesture meant something more than just two friendly coworkers sharing a reassuring moment before the afternoon rush.

But Clarke’s blue eyes twinkled under the soft Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling, her lips curved up just a little as if they were trying to tell Lexa something she couldn’t hear, and her thumb gently grazed the back of Lexa’s hand.

Her skin tingled after every stroke, and her whole body was screaming at her that, yes, this was something more. This was not just a friendly encounter. Clarke really did see Lexa as more than just a workplace friend.

“Clarke!”

Clarke dropped Lexa’s hand as if a firecracker suddenly exploded in their grasp and whipped her body around to face the boy.

“Hey, Finn,” Clarke tucked a strand of hair that fell from her messy bun behind her ear and placed her hand on the boy’s resting on the counter, giving it a gentle squeeze. Lexa took her spot behind Clarke, ready to start whatever order this hipster wannabe asked for.

“What can I get you this afternoon?” Clarke’s crooked smile pulled an ache deep in Lexa’s chest, and she had to clench her jaw to keep herself from bursting with envy.

“You know? I’m feeling fancy,” he winked and ran his fingers through his dark hair just before he turned to Lexa with a cheeky smile that she secretly wanted to smack off his face. “Twelve-ounce cappuccino, no foam. Please, and thank you.”

“So you want a latte.”

“What?” Finn tore his cheesy grin from Clarke and shook his head at Lexa. “No, I said I want a cappuccino with no foam.”

Lexa took a deep breath, quelling the rising anger deep in her belly. She was used to people assuming they knew more than she did. An unfortunate reality for many women in the world, but this fool who was currently staring bedroom eyes at Clarke caught her in a weak moment. Screw the customer was always right bullshit. Not today, Satan. Not today.

“That’s like ordering an omelette with no eggs,” Lexa smiled a smile she just knew screamed fake as Clarke gaped at her, and Finn frowned, clearly confused.

Lexa pursed her lips to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. “A cappuccino is made of equal parts espresso, steamed milk, and foam. If you don’t want foam, you don’t want a cappuccino.”

“Lexa,” Clarke hissed through her teeth, glaring at her with wide, angry eyes. “Just make the drink. Please.”

Lexa did roll her eyes, but unable to defy Clarke, turned her back to the smug boy and prepped the espresso machine. She wordlessly handed Clarke the finished latte, ignoring the silent thank you in her eyes and attended to the next customer as Clarke finished her flirting with Finn.

The stream of customers remained steady, and Clarke barely said two words to her that didn’t involve coffee or tea. During their final hour on shift, the coffee shop finally died down, and Lexa found herself on the pointy end of a very sharp Clarke.

“So,” Clarke baited as she wiped down a spotless counter. “You were pretty rude to Finn this afternoon.”

Lexa didn’t look up from her current task of refilling the sugar shakers. “I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t need to make him feel like an idiot, but-”

“I’m sorry if he felt ignorant, but that’s not my fault. He was wrong. I was right.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Clarke threw her towel on the counter and placed her hand on Lexa’s shoulder, forcing her to turn and face her. “You’re usually-”

“More of a pushover?”

“What? I wasn’t going to say that.”

“But it’s what you want me to be?”

“Lexa, no. I just… He’s just-”

“I’m sorry if I messed up your game or whatever. But don’t stand there and tell me that it doesn’t bug you when a customer orders something that doesn’t exist just because he wants to sound fancy and say cappuccino!”

“Oooh!” Murphy appeared from the back room. “Did someone order a cappuccino with no foam again?”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke stormed past him, untying her apron in a fury.

“What’s gotten into her?”

“That boy came in, the one desperately in need of a haircut and not subtle at all about his desire to sleep with Clarke.”

Murphy nodded as if he knew precisely who Lexa was talking about, so she sighed and continued, “He ordered a cappuccino, no foam, and I politely explained to him that he wanted a latte, not a cappuccino.”

“Seems legit. So why is Clarke raging?”

“She doesn’t think I should have made him feel like a fool.”

“Is she into him?”

Lexa just shrugged. She had never really spoken about crushes or dating with Clarke, but all those small touches and small smiles, Lexa was pretty sure Clarke was shamelessly flirting with Finn. Murphy continued to stare at her as if he wanted more of an answer, and in a moment of frustrating weakness, she scoffed out loud.

Lexa hid her face in her hands, attempting to stop the words before they broke free from the dam her mind created. She had so many opinions on Clarke’s apparent choice in partners, none of them good, and she really didn’t want to rant. It wasn’t her place. But Murphy kept prodding with his eyes, and Lexa was only human.

She was saved from the awful conversation by her replacement walking in. She bid a quick farewell and hurried into the back room, eager to dodge temptation and perhaps apologize or at least smooth things over with Clarke before leaving.

But the back room was empty, and Clarke was nowhere to be seen.

*******

Lexa leaned her elbows on the counter, staring at the giant print of a coffee cup on the wall. It was her favorite photo in the shop. Just a typical white mug sitting on a clean, wooden table. But the light streaming in from the window behind the cup created an almost ethereal effect on the ceramic, and it glowed. It glowed more beautiful than blonde hair in the summer sun.

Lexa shook her head, realizing that she desperately needed a distraction from her increasingly pitiful and slightly desperate thoughts.

She glanced around the empty coffee shop. It was dead tonight, most likely due to the torrential downpour happening outside the window, and they hadn’t had a new customer in almost an hour.

Clarke was curled up in the cozy chair nearest the counter, her nose buried in a book. They hadn’t spoken much in the past week, not since the “Finncident,” as Murphy coined it. She leaned her chin on her hand and followed the precise movement of Clarke’s finger as she turned another page.

“Get bored of staring at the mugshots in Mugshots?”

“Hmm?” Lexa snapped herself out of her stupor.

Clarke turned another page, but the smirk on her face was noticeable even from where Lexa stood. “I _am_ more interesting to look at than coffee cups.”

Lexa’s cheeks flushed as she pushed her glasses up her nose. Her eyes flicked back to the coffee cup print, skimming the dozens of others, desperate to look at anything but Clarke. “I wasn’t staring.”

Clarke lowered her book just enough to peek over. Her eyebrow rose in disbelief, and Lexa’s skin heated again, the blush rising from her neck to the tips of her ears.

“So,” Lexa deflected in a distressed attempt to retain her composure. “What are you reading?”

Clarke slid the post-it note she was using as a bookmark between the pages and closed it with reverential ease. “Just re-reading one of my favorites.”

Clarke didn’t offer anything further, so Lexa just nodded. “Clarke,” she finally found the courage to say what had been eating her alive for the past week.

“I’m sorry about the other day. With Finn. I had a difficult morning and a big test that counted for half my final grade the next day, and I was just stressed.”

Which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t the complete truth either. The whole truth involved a whole lot of jealousy and false hope that Lexa was rather inclined to keep to herself.

Clarke popped up from her chair and swiftly made her way around the counter. She pulled Lexa into a hug, leaving Lexa standing stock still, unsure of what it was for. Clarke squeezed her harder, and Lexa wrapped her hands around Clarke’s waist, sinking into her body.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Clarke whispered into her ear. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I have no idea why I got so angry.”

Lexa begged her body to quit betraying her and stop this useless spell of goosebumps that was currently coursing over every inch of her.

“Are we friends again?” Clarke breathed into her neck, tickling the few strands of hair that had fallen out of her braid against her already sensitive skin.

The bitter sting of disappointment settled deep in her belly with that word choice, but Lexa nodded anyway, pulling a sigh of relief from Clarke.

“Thank god,” Clarke laughed. She broke their embrace but remained unnaturally close. She tucked that same strand of fallen hair that tickled Lexa’s neck back behind her ear, and as her fingers brushed Lexa’s cheek, as they traced the curve of her ear, Lexa closed her eyes, lost in the dream that the touch meant something more.

When Lexa opened her eyes, Clarke’s blue ones were wide and dark, and they were staring at her lips. She was certain of it. Lexa’s own gaze flicked down to Clarke’s slightly opened mouth, and Clarke leaned in just a little closer.

The jingle of the bell attached to the door had Clarke springing backwards. She turned towards the new customer with a wide grin, leaving Lexa longing to compose herself after whatever that was. Was she about to kiss her? Surely not. Clarke had just said they were friends.

“Bellamy!”

Lexa turned around just in time to see Clarke literally jump over the counter and wrap her arms around the soaking wet man standing in the middle of the shop. He curled around her, lifting her off the ground.

Lexa let her heart sink yet again, as he spun Clarke around and hearing Clarke giggle at the spectacle shattered her already beaten heart into pieces. She turned around both unable to watch Clarke light up in this man’s arms and to give them some sort of privacy.

“Lexa!” Clarke called.

Lexa wanted to ignore them, to pretend that she hadn’t heard Clarke call her name, but she was nothing if not completely kind, and shunning Clarke right now would be the definition of unkind. So Lexa turned around and found Clarke dragging Bellamy over with her hand clasped firmly in his.

“This is Bellamy Blake.”

Lexa shook his hand with a forced smile.

“I haven’t seen him in over a year,” Clarke beamed up at him.

Lexa nodded and kept what she hoped was a pleasant grin on her face. “Go ahead,” she gestured towards a table. “I got a handle on this.”

Clarke glanced around the absolutely empty coffee shop and smirked. “I don’t know. Seems like an awful lot for just little old you.”

“Doubting my skills?”

“Never!” Clarke gasped. “You are the second best barista on this block.”

Lexa rolled her eyes at Clarke’s lame little joke, but she smiled, warm and sincere, despite herself. Clarke returned the grin and suddenly reached up and tapped the tip of Lexa’s nose. “Thank you for being you.”

Lexa slid her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as Clarke bounded off towards the table Bellamy was already seated at. She sighed and bit her lip at the sheer joy radiating off Clarke, wanting so hopelessly to be the person Clarke smiled like that for.

Lexa couldn’t watch the scene any longer and busied herself making two familiar cups of coffee. She held the steamed milk above the cup the way Clarke taught her, nudging it just right until the swirls appeared and pulled the stream through, creating a lopsided but more or less adequate heart. She repeated the process with a lot less care on the second cup and carried them across the empty cafe.

“Lexa, you didn’t have to do this,” Clarke smirked as she looked down at the heart in her latte. “Aww, you’re getting so much better!”

Clarke grasped Lexa’s hand and squeezed it so tenderly that Lexa wanted nothing more than to turn her hand over, intertwine their fingers and pull Clarke up into a devastating kiss. But her delightful daydream was interrupted by a deep, gruff voice.

“Hey,” Bellamy grinned into his mug. “I got a heart too. At least, I think it’s a heart.”

Lexa pulled out of Clarke’s hold and swallowed down all her unwarranted jealousy before addressing Bellamy. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just made two of Clarke’s favorite.”

“This is perfect,” he smiled over the rim of his cup. “Really, thank you.”

Lexa gave a curt nod and rushed away, eager to be rid of the annoyingly not irritating Bellamy Blake.

She left them to catch up, only glancing up from her homework at the whispered sound of her name. Clarke kicked Bellamy under the table and shook her head. Lexa was no mind reader, but from the few words like “shift” and “close” she was able to pick up and Clarke’s body language in relation to Bellamy’s, she took a wild guess as to what they were talking about.

“Why don’t you two head out?” Lexa smiled despite the splitting of her heart.

Clarke stood from the table in a flash, expertly grabbing both their empty coffee mugs and beelined around the counter. “Oh, no,” Clarke fervently shook her head after setting down the cups in the back sink. “I couldn’t ask you to close up by yourself. I’ll finish my shift.”

“It’s quite alright. We haven’t had an order in over two hours. I can manage.”

“But that’s not-”

“Just go, Clarke.”

Realizing that the words came out much harsher than she intended, Lexa softened her features and motioned towards the back door with a kind smile. “I got this. I promise. Go make your funny face at the camera, and get out of here.”

Clarke stared at her, searching for any sign that Lexa was lying, so Lexa kept her face determined and pushed her glasses up her nose. Clarke caved and leaned close, placing a faint kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “You’re the best,” she whispered before pulling away.

With a quick smile, Clarke led Bellamy into the back room, and Lexa leaned against the counter cursing her own existence.

*******

“I don’t know how you come up with a different face every day.”

Clarke turned around with the same exaggerated cute if not slightly creepy smile she just clocked in with. “It’s all in the subtleties, Lexa.”

Lexa approached Clarke without being asked and tied the apron around Clarke’s waist. Her fingers lingered a moment after smoothing down the bow and with an accidentally sultry tone that was really just her lame attempt to stop her voice from cracking due to the Sahara like state her throat always found itself in when she was in such close proximity to Clarke, she whispered, “Maybe one day you can teach me your ways.”

“Careful there,” Clarke turned around, invading Lexa’s personal bubble in a way that was certainly not unwelcome. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

Lexa choked as she took a huge step backwards. She pushed her glasses up her nose while shaking her head. “I wasn’t- I mean, I’m not- Not that you’re not worthy of flirtatious behavior, but I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m just in awe of your confidence to make such silly faces every day.”

Lexa finished her save with a smile that probably looked more like a frown, and Clarke’s giggle filled the back room with warmth and light. “Worthy of flirtatious behavior? Who talks like that?”

“Um, I do,” Lexa hid her blush as best she could by re-braiding her perfectly braided hair.

“I know,” Clarke walked behind her and replaced Lexa’s hands with her own, finishing the braid with precision. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Clarke let her fingers still on Lexa’s upper back after she smoothed down the tip of her braid. Lexa held her breath, terrified that if she allowed her body to take control to do even the most involuntary things at the moment, her brain would have a field day and let her mouth say something stupid like tell Clarke how much she loved the way her nose scrunched when she smiled.

“Now, come on,” Clarke tugged on Lexa’s arm, dragging her out of the back room. “I promised I’d help you with your latte art this morning in between customers.”

Lexa followed her, both dreading and eagerly anticipating the lessons. Mugshots was already bustling with a steady stream of caffeine-deprived patrons, so the lessons were put on hold for a little while, much to Lexa’s relief. But the lull soon came, and when Clarke wiggled her eyebrows with that adorable small smile, Lexa let her shoulders slump just a little.

“Oh, don’t look so defeated,” Clarke passed the pitcher of microfoam to Lexa and gave her a playful shove to her shoulder. “You’ve almost got this.”

Lexa pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, gave herself a determined nod, and picked up the cup of fresh espresso.

“Just like we practiced now,” Clarke encouraged her. “Steady stream, little twirls, pull up, and straight through.”

Lexa followed the instructions as Clarke called them, hoping and praying that the art looked better than any she’d attempted before. But as she looked down in her cup, her heart sank.

“That’s not bad,” Clarke smirked after looking at Lexa’s pitiful attempt that resembled a weird alien lizard more than a cute little heart. “I’m sure Kane will appreciate the attempt.”

“Kane is getting the failed coffee?”

“He’s in the office doing payroll,” Clarke grinned and took the cup from Lexa, letting her fingers brush over hers. “Get another ready. I’ll be right back.”

Lexa sighed as she prepped the espresso machine. Clarke appeared a few minutes later, just as the next drink was ready to be butchered. “Kane sends his appreciation for the lizard.”

Lexa dropped her chin to her chest, “I don’t know why you keep trying to teach me this. Clearly, I don’t possess half the artistic talent that you do.”

Clarke picked up the steamed milk and handed it to Lexa, but instead of letting go, she kept her fingers wrapped around hers. “I keep trying because I know you can.”

Clarke stood directly behind Lexa, her front pressed tight against her back, as she grabbed the coffee mug. “I’m doing this right-handed, but I think we’ve got this.”

Lexa stilled as Clarke held her close, moving their hands as one in a gentle yet precise manner. Lexa’s own heart pounded against her ribcage, and with every tiny gesture, with every minuscule movement Clarke executed, Lexa felt it everywhere. Clarke was wrapped so tightly around her, her hands so perfectly overlapping Lexa’s, Lexa was struggling to feel anything but utter desire, and that was terrifying.

Lexa held her breath, forcing her eyes to tear away from Clarke’s flawless fingers and concentrate instead on the rich brown drink slowly lightening.

Despite Lexa’s absolute lack of chill, Clarke kept the flow steady, and soon enough, the milk began to swirl at the top, creating a perfect little shape. With a quick pull up, Clarke guided the stream through.

“You can breathe now,” Clarke whispered into her ear as she stepped back, leaving both the pitcher of milk and latte in Lexa’s hands. Lexa couldn’t turn around to face her, not yet. So she set the pitcher down and stared into the coffee cup.

The most delicate and perfect little heart met her gaze and the anxiety of having the woman she was pretty sure she was in love with pressed so close to her vanished and was replaced with overwhelming pride.

“Look at that!” Lexa beamed as she thrust the mug forward. “We did it!”

“Knew you had it in you,” Clarke winked, and those butterflies came flooding back in with a vengeance. “Before you know it, you’ll be pouring tulips and rosettas more beautiful than the smile on your face right now.”

“I-”

Lexa was saved by the bell, quite literally. Clarke placed her hand on her shoulder as she pushed past her to greet the new customer.

*******

Clarke smoldered at the camera, and Lexa had to close her eyes to keep herself from spiraling into yet another daydream about how it would feel to have Clarke look at her with that devastatingly devilish grin.

“Big plans for the weekend?”

The back room couch dipped as Clarke sat beside her.

“Not really,” Lexa shrugged, keeping her eyes shut. “You?”

“I was actually going to ask-” Clarke pulled her rudely vibrating phone from her back pocket. “Shit.”

Lexa finally opened her eyes and found pure annoyance etched on Clarke’s face.

“Everything okay?”

“Finn canceled on me.”

“Oh,” Lexa let her shoulders slump. She really needed just to accept the fact that while Clarke was admittedly flirtatious with her, she clearly had her interests well established elsewhere. “I didn’t know you were dating him. I thought you were with Bellamy.”

“What?” Clarke’s eyes widened comically. “Why would you think that?”

“The other week,” Lexa waved her hand, surprised that it was actually much easier to just talk about it than to keep it all bottled up inside. “You just seemed very friendly.”

“Because he’s a friend,” Clarke shook her head. “I’ve known him for years. He’s like a brother to me.”

“That makes a lot of sense actually,” Lexa smiled. “Sorry for assuming.”

Clarke waved her off. “It’s fine. You’d be surprised how many people confuse friendship for flirting these days.”

Lexa nodded like she knew what Clarke was talking about before collecting her things from her locker. “Well, I should be going. I hope Finn reschedules with you.”

“Won’t help me if he does.”

Lexa paused, her hand on the doorknob and turned around. “What do you mean?”

“He was my ride,” Clarke sighed and sank back into the couch.

Lexa crossed the room and held out her hand.

“What are you doing?” Clarke slid her hand into Lexa’s and yelped as Lexa pulled her swiftly to her feet.

“I can give you a ride-” Lexa wiggled her keys that dangled from her finger “-if you’d like.”

Lexa kept eye contact as Clarke contemplated her offer, and she honestly wasn’t sure which answer she wanted to hear.

On the one hand, Clarke was easily her favorite person at Mugshots, regardless of her romantic fantasies, and she was more than eager to help out a friend in need. She had a spare helmet, thankfully, so there really wasn’t a problem offering a ride.

But there was the whole being in love with the woman thing weighing on her. She was trying so hard to keep that part of her brain in check, but the close proximity that would be required if Clarke said yes would be torturous, to say the least.

In the end, Lexa’s innate kindness won out, and she rolled her eyes at Clarke. “It’s no trouble. Really. I’d be more than happy to give you a ride.”

Clarke stared at her for just a moment longer before breaking into a wide grin and following Lexa into the parking lot.


	2. Clarke

Clarke fully intended to make a face that rivaled that crying Dawson meme, but at the exact moment she inputted her employee number, she heard the back door open and the familiar gait of Lexa saunter in for her shift. The face she made instead resembled Grumpy Cat (RIP).

Lexa hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her since their mini argument the other day, and the lack of her usual dose of Lexa was affecting her more than she’d like to admit. Not like she’d done anything to fix the situation. Clarke was nothing if not stupidly stubborn. When she showed up for her shift after the fight, Lexa had stared at her, so impassive, so aloof, and Clarke couldn’t help but mimic the mood. If Lexa was sour, then sour she would be as well.

She’d be damned if she was the first to apologize. Which she realized was stupid and childish, but she honestly just couldn’t back down.

So Clarke didn’t linger like she usually did, and she didn’t ask for unnecessary help in tying her apron. She just pushed through the door and into the coffee shop without so much as a glance behind her.

“Whoa,” Murphy put his hands up in surrender. “I haven’t done anything, I swear.”

“What?”

“Your face. You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

Clarke ignored him, choosing instead to take over making the latte for the employee she was replacing.

“Are you still mad about the other day? Because Lexa told me all about the “Finncident’-”

“The ‘Finncident’?” Clarke whirled around, almost spilling the perfectly steamed milk as it sloshed dangerously close to the top of the pitcher. “What are you-” Clarke squeezed her eyes shut with realization. “She thinks I’m mad about what she said to Finn.”

“Well, yeah, because you are,” Murphy finished pouring the drink and handed it to the patiently waiting customer.

“I’m not,” Clarke shook her head, ashamed and a little heartbroken that Lexa, sweet, kind, wickedly smart, gorgeous, hard to read, Lexa, thought she was upset with her for how she spoke to Finn.

Murphy raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer that didn’t come because Lexa pushed her way through the back door. He paused on his way out and whispered in Clarke’s ear, “You should apologize then. This weird feud between you two is stupid and getting on my nerves.”

Clarke shoved his shoulder, causing him to stumble forwards, but he just laughed and waved goodbye before disappearing through the door. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she quickly accepted that Murphy was right. If Lexa really thought she was upset about that, she needed to apologize because the truth was quite different. Stupid, but different.

Clarke wasn’t angry that Lexa called out Finn’s lack of coffee knowledge. She was actually pretty impressed Lexa had the nerve to tell him he was wrong, and the way she did it, with that soft smile that sent a shock of heat straight through Clarke every damn time she saw it, oh that was something to behold. No, Clarke wasn’t upset with that at all.

She was short with her because Finn was a notoriously good tipper if he thought he was special, a trait Clarke discovered nearly a year prior. So when he waltzed in, it was game time. Clarke could practically taste that twenty she spied in his wallet as she tucked her hair behind her ear and batted her eyelashes a little more than necessary. It was so close.

But then Lexa called him out.

Which was brilliant, yet extremely poorly timed.

And then when Clarke brought it up later, she was ready to laugh about it, but Lexa had this fire burning behind her eyes that was extraordinarily sexy but also really intimidating. The next thing she knew, Lexa was jumping to conclusions and attacking her, and Clarke Griffin was not known to back down from a fight. She’d always been far too stubborn, and quite frankly, a terrible loser.

But when Lexa accused her of flirting, which admittedly she was, but only for show, and the way Lexa was glaring, Clarke had been certain she thought it was for real. Which hurt Clarke more than it should have. Was Lexa really that blind to all the signals she’d been sending? Did she really think that she’d openly flirt and mean it with another person when she was so clearly trying to gain Lexa’s attention?

It was a sobering realization to be smacked in the face with. So when Murphy burst in, Clarke beelined out of the coffee shop, pretty disappointed that Lexa obviously didn’t see her the way she wanted her to. That, and she was totally unprepared to face Lexa in all her argumentatively alluring grandeur.

So here she stood staring at her amazing coworker who apparently thought she was angry with her when the truth of the matter was that she was really freaking smitten and entirely too stubborn for her own good.

Clarke smiled, ready to apologize, to clear the air when the door bell jingled.

Lexa gave her an awkward little half-smile, pushed her glasses up her nose, and squeezed past her to greet the new customer. Clarke grimaced at the missed opportunity and sucked in a calming breath of air. There’d be more time later to set the record straight.

And maybe do a little more flirting.

*******

Clarke growled at the camera and turned at the lovely chuckle echoing behind her. Lexa slipped her bag into her usual cubby, and Clarke couldn’t help the smile even if she wanted to.

“Are the sound effects necessary for the faces?”

“Abso-fricking-lutely,” Clarke beamed, delighted that she and Lexa were back on friendly terms, a phrase that pulled an internal grimace from Clarke.

Friendly.

If Clarke had her way, she’d take that word in reference to Lexa and ball it up in her fist, squishing it to the point of no recognition before tossing it in with the used coffee grounds that Kane donated to the local park for fertilizer. It’d make better food for a tree than an adjective to describe her relationship with Lexa.

Not that she didn’t enjoy Lexa’s friendship. She did. So much. She just wanted more.

But dear, sweet, quiet Lexa… That woman made Clarke more confused than a chameleon sitting in a bowl full of Skittles. One minute she was leaning in, about to kiss her and the next Lexa was practically forcing Clarke to leave her alone.

But Clarke had been so sure that day about Lexa’s own desire. She was leaning in and staring at her lips, dammit! Lexa had to feel something for her. Honestly, that was the one thing that kept Clarke’s hope alive even a fraction.

So she just smiled at the woman whose green eyes sparkled like the sun rays peeking through the forest leaves and winked. “The sound effects, they’re method, you know?”

Lexa shook her head and stood with her hands outstretched. Clarke turned around and had to bite back her instinct to lean backwards as Lexa’s elegant fingers worked her apron ties into a perfect knot. She shuddered as those fingers grazed the small of her back, and she slammed her eyes shut as the usual fantasy took over.

It happened every damn shift (when they weren’t locked in a weird and totally unnecessary mini-feud, that is), and Clarke honestly wasn’t sure if it was heaven or hell. She imagined those fingers trailing up her back, pushing her hair to the side, the tickle of warm breath on her neck before what she only assumed were the softest, most perfectly lush lips grazed the back of her jaw. Clarke would then twirl around, gracefully she might add (this was her fantasy after all), and wrap her hands around Lexa’s neck before pulling her close and finally getting that taste she’d dreamed about for months.

“There you go.”

Lexa’s voice was so soft and quiet, and exactly what Clarke imagined it would sound like after a sweetly divine make out session. Clarke swallowed down her desire and willed herself to get it together. But Lexa was always just so respectful and kind, and dear lord, yes, this was hell. Because Lexa was everything Clarke wanted, and it would seem that she was everything she couldn’t have. Despite her efforts.

*******

Hell. Definitely hell.

Lexa bent over a cherry red scooter, lifting the under-seat storage compartment and pulling out a white open-faced helmet. She turned around, and Clarke had to hide her gaze, not ready to admit or show where exactly she had been staring. It definitely wasn’t Lexa’s ass in perfectly fitted jeans. Definitely not.

“Have you ever ridden on a scooter before?” Lexa stood before her, holding out the helmet, looking a little apprehensive.

“Does a jetski count?” Clarke smirked, trying and apparently succeeding in keeping her chill intact as she imagined Lexa riding on the back of this bike that actually looked more like a motorcycle than a scooter.

And how the hell did Clarke not know that Lexa drove this? How had she spent every shift with the woman since she started at Mugshots and never learned the essential fact that Lexa drove an adorably sexy and a little nerdy cherry freaking red scooter?

“No.”

“Then, no-” Clarke took the offered helmet- “I haven’t.”

Lexa nodded and swung her bag to her front and pulled out a matching black helmet. She stuffed her now very empty looking bag into the compartment and flipped the seat back down.

Clarke held the helmet in her hands and turned it over, examining the surprisingly heavy thing. “You have a spare one with you?”

“Your lucky day,” Lexa set hers on the seat and motioned for Clarke to hand the white one over. “I gave a friend of mine a ride this morning. I wouldn’t have offered to drive you if I didn’t have it with me.”

Clarke stood still as a statue as Lexa slowly slipped the helmet over her head. “No?” She managed to sound normal despite the absolute pounding of her heart. “Not even if I begged and promised to repay you somehow?”

“Safety is important,” Lexa didn’t even glance up into Clarke’s eyes, she just concentrated on tightening the chin strap. “There. Feel okay?”

Clarke attempted her best smile and dug her finger under the strap. “It’s snug.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

Lexa turned in a flurry, seemingly remembering something and popped open the compartment with practiced ease. When she turned around again, Lexa had swapped her usual glasses for black aviators.

And Clarke might as well have died.

Clarke let a huff of surprised air escape her lungs as she stared. Lexa tucked her braid to one side and slipped her helmet gracefully over her head, adjusting her hair here and there, and when she finished, she looked up at Clarke.

The nerve of this woman.

Lexa looked like something out of her very bisexual fantasy dreams. Long braid hung over her shoulder, sunglasses perfectly framing a face that was cut from goddess material, leaning on a freaking scooter. Clarke was quite frankly, surprised she hadn’t mounted the woman yet.

“Are you okay?”

Clarke shook her head, snapping her attention from the perfect way the wind rustled the hem of Lexa’s shirt, almost exposing a slim line of skin, and looked up at a very concerned Lexa.

Unable to remember what the hell Lexa had asked, Clarke grinned like a dork. “Hmm?”

Lexa smirked, and dammit, if Clarke wasn’t already a disaster in the chill department, she certainly was a catastrophe now.

“Are you ready?” Lexa gestured towards her scooter with a wave of her hands.

“Yep.”

Lexa flipped out the passenger footpegs and settled herself on the seat. She turned with another unfair smirk and waited for Clarke to mount the bike. Clarke took a steadying breath. She could totally do this. She could sit behind Lexa, squeeze her thighs around her waist, press against her back, hold on tight as they sped through their college town. No problem. No problem at all.

Clarke swung her leg over and settled comfortably. Her whole body erupted in a fit of goosebumps as she fit so perfectly against Lexa’s back. This felt better than that time she held Lexa and guided her hands to make latte art.

“You can hang on to my waist or the seat right underneath you,” Lexa called over her shoulder. “There’s a handle of sorts there. And just move with me.”

Clarke stifled her chuckle. As if she was really going to turn down the opportunity to wrap her arms around Lexa. She placed her hands on the hips in front of her, being sure to remain respectful. Lexa’s muscles tensed in her hold, but it was fleeting.

The soft rumble of the scooter sent pleasant little shockwaves through Clarke as she prepared herself for what she was sure was going to be the ride of her life when a sudden thought popped into her head.

“Hey,” she shouted over the quiet grumble of the engine. “Do you even know where I live?”

Lexa turned her shoulders to better face Clarke, “Apartments on Second, right? Near the library?”

Clarke cocked her head to the side as the blush blossomed on Lexa’s cheeks.

“You mentioned it once or twice. I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

Clarke couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward, and despite the awkward little maneuvering she had to pull off due to the bulky helmets, managed to place a quick kiss to Lexa’s rose-red cheek. Lexa bit her lip, and dammit, if Clarke didn’t want to snag that bottom lip in her own teeth, but Lexa just reached up and flipped down the visor on Clarke’s helmet before facing forward again.

Clarke tightened her grasp on Lexa’s hips as they turned out of the parking lot at a surprising pace. People could turn up their noses all they wanted, but Clarke would now defend scooters until the day she died. Quiet, calm, a tad nerdy, yet still overflowing with a bit of danger and mystery, the vehicle was like this perfect little metaphor for the woman currently driving it.

Clarke let her body finally relax as the minutes ticked by, and she found herself leaning into Lexa’s back, absorbing all the warmth and comfort radiating off her.

That was until they hit the tiniest pothole.

The scooter bounced, causing Clarke to fly a little off her seat, and despite Lexa’s clear nonchalance about the incident, Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa, terrified that she’d shoot off at any moment. She was closer than she’d ever been to her, and the realization had her hanging on even tighter.

Far too quickly for Clarke’s taste, they turned onto her street and were pulling up in front of her apartment. Lexa rolled the scooter to a stop and killed the engine. She stood, drawing a sigh of regret from Clarke with the now lack of body contact, and removed her helmet. Lexa offered a hand to Clarke, and while it wasn’t a nice warm back to nuzzle against that somehow happened to be both strong and beautifully delicate at the same time, Clarke couldn’t deny the chance to intertwine her fingers with Lexa’s.

She dismounted the scooter with surprising grace and handed Lexa back her spare helmet.

“Thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”

“I was on my way to the library, anyway.”

Lexa pushed her sunglasses up her nose with a small smile, and for crying out loud, as much as the gesture killed Clarke when she was wearing her standard glasses, right now, with those dark aviators, Clarke wished there was a brick wall she could bang her head against so she could rid her mind of all thoughts of tangling her fingers into dark brown hair and slamming her mouth against Lexa’s.

Instead, she leaned forward and pulled Lexa into a hug. Lexa wrapped her hands around her waist, while Clarke melted into the embrace. And because Clarke apparently loved to torture herself, she turned her head just enough to brush her nose against Lexa’s perfect cheek and whispered, “I wouldn’t mind a ride home every day, if you’re up for it.”

*******

Clarke handed over the cup of black coffee with her usual professional smile and checked her watch, again.

“Relax. Your girlfriend should be here any minute.” Murphy leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as Clarke groaned into her hands. “You’re pathetic. You know that, right?”

“I’m so aware of it. And she’s not my girlfriend,” Clarke sighed, glancing at the back door as if looking would magically make Lexa appear sooner.

It was a rare shift today. Lexa needed to come in a few hours later than usual due to some school project, and Murphy had offered to cover for her. Clarke had spent the Lexa-less time in a weird state of flux. She was quicker with her barista duties, making the drinks in almost half the time it usually took her, no doubt less distracted by elegant fingers and adorably large eyes hidden behind nerdy chic glasses. But while she was quick with the orders, her brain and body just felt off.

Lexa had become such a massive mainstay at work that not having her here felt wrong. Which she realized was stupid and borderline crazy, but it wasn’t like she could help her feelings.

“You should just ask her out and put both yourself, and more importantly, me, out of our misery.”

Clarke glared at Murphy for both interrupting her Lexa-full thoughts and for being annoyingly observant.

“I can’t do that,” Clarke shook her head. “She’s my friend, and we work together all the time.”

“So?”

“So what if she doesn’t see me like that? What if she gets all weird and uncomfortable and we’ll stop talking while working which will just throw me completely off my work game and Kane will have to fire me for my poor performance, and I’ll have to find another job that will accommodate a working college student? Do you know how hard that is to find? Do you?”

Clarke stared daggers at Murphy, but before he could open his mouth to answer, Clarke’s word rant bubbled up again, ready to explode. And explode she did.

“And I won’t find it because nothing will even come close to this place and Lexa and I’ll have to accept my mother’s help, and she’ll hold it over my head for my entire life and I’ll only be free from her tyranny when I land that post-grad dream job that probably doesn’t exist and finally have a paycheck to start working off this massive student loan.”

“Whoa,” Murphy held up his hands. “I guess you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Clarke groaned and banged her head against the counter, because, yes, she had.

“What if she does like you?”

Clarke stopped hitting her head on the worn wooden counter long enough to ponder that thought but not long enough to actually form an answer. Murphy placed his hand between her shoulder blades.

“I’m just saying,” he whispered, surprisingly kind. “I think you two are good for each other. Besides, all signs point to yes. The woman gives you a ride home every day, for fuck’s sake. Every. Day. If that’s not dedicated true love, I don’t know what is.”

Clarke pried her head from the counter and stood. Murphy was right, a troubling thought, but no less correct. Lexa had agreed to take her home after every shift. Clarke’s little masochistic moment of weakness had paid off in a sense. She got to hold Lexa close for a solid fifteen-minute stretch, and afterwards, she would always press a kiss to Lexa’s cheek, not only to offer her appreciation and thanks but to see the adorable blush settle on that perfect skin every time.

Not to mention all the little things Clarke had noticed in the past few months. The way Lexa would stare at her when she thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way her gaze dropped to Clarke’s lips when they were standing close, hell, even the way she never backed away when Clarke stood too close. Yes, Lexa very possibly felt the same way.

With a smirk and a nod of confidence, Clarke determined that today was the day. Today was going to be the day she would lay it all out there and told Lexa how she really felt. Murphy laughed as if he just heard every single thought Clarke just had and shook his head, muttering a faint “pathetic” under his breath.

Clarke ignored the jab, because honestly, she kind of agreed, it all was a little pathetic. All this longing and flirting had really gotten her nowhere. Lexa deserved the honest approach. And dammit, she’d get it.

But first, work. The afternoon rush began slow, but soon enough, there was a line almost out the door. Clarke had barely even had time to wave a goodbye thanks to Murphy before he left when Lexa arrived to take over.

As the steady stream slowed to a trickle that ended with a drip, Clarke’s palms began to sweat. Mugshots was due to close in less than thirty minutes. In less than an hour, Clarke would be wrapped around Lexa, wind blowing in her face. In less than an hour, she’d hop off the scooter, and instead of placing a kiss to Lexa’s cheek, she’d smile, and tell Lexa that she was the most amazingly wonderful person she’d ever met. She’d tell her that it’d be the honor of her lifetime if Lexa would agree to a date.

Then when Lexa said yes (this was Clarke’s fantasy, of course, Lexa would say yes), Clarke would push the helmet-mussed hair behind Lexa’s ear, being sure to trace that chiseled jawline with her fingertips, and once that hair was tucked securely behind those adorably tiny ears, she’d tangle her fingers in that braid and lean in. Slow enough for Lexa to be sure of what was happening, but confident enough for Lexa to know that Clarke had wanted this for ages, and kiss her. Finally kiss her. Not just in her fantasies, but in reality.

Clarke Griffin was going to kiss Lexa Woods.

“Where’d you go?”

Clarke snapped her head up and out of her daydream. Lexa pushed her glasses up her nose as she dried the clean milk pitcher and set it on the counter. Clarke followed the shift of her hands, mesmerized by the graceful movement.

“What?”

Lexa’s smile was soft and quiet. “You had this far off look. It was beautiful. What were you thinking about?”

_Kissing you._

“Just the end of our shift. My feet are killing me,” Clarke groaned and dramatically shifted from foot to foot, just to sell her lie.

Lexa nodded, yet Clarke could tell she didn’t quite believe her. But she didn’t push for the truth. It was one of those things about Lexa that Clarke adored. She was so observant but so damn respectful. Lexa would never pry if she felt it wasn’t her place. She’d just wait until Clarke was ready to talk.

But Clarke was not going to say what she wanted to say right now. No, asking for a date was not appropriate during work hours. She needed to wait until they were alone and not surrounded by espresso machines and giant mugshots of coffee cups. So she smiled and changed the subject.

“Any plans for the weekend? You still have off, like me, right?”

“Yep,” Lexa nodded. “No plans though. I might actually get to finish watching this show I’ve been binging.”

Clarke perked up. Lexa didn’t have any plans. Maybe this weekend would be the perfect time to take her out on that date, and if it all went well, she’d curl up on Lexa’s couch, and they could finish binging whatever show Lexa was watching.

“Oh, nice! What show are you watching?”

Lexa grinned and pushed her glasses up her nose, and Clarke struggled to stand still and listen to Lexa’s response, but dammit, she was so freaking cute and hard to resist every time she did that.

“It’s this show on HBO inspired by the true story of a woman-”

Lexa stopped mid-sentence as the door bell jingled, and a young woman rushed in.

“Oh, thank god,” the customer clasped her hand to her chest. “You’re still open.”

Lexa pushed herself off the counter and greeted the woman as she rushed to the front. “For another ten minutes. You made it just in time.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled as Lexa smiled at her, and Clarke felt an uncomfortable roar in her belly. The customer smirked and reached her hand across the counter, squeezing Lexa’s. “Fate was on my side today,” she pulled her hand away before the touch could be considered inappropriate and instead played with the necklace dangling near her cleavage. “I don’t know what I would have done without a pick me up. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.”

Clarke bit her lip to keep her mouth shut.

“Well, you’re in the right place for that.” Lexa motioned towards the giant chalkboard menu hanging above her, seemingly oblivious to the woman’s rather blatant flirting. “What can we get started for you?”

“We?” The woman tore her gaze from Lexa and raised her eyebrow in Clarke’s direction. “Oh, hello, I didn’t see you over there.”

Clarke put on her friendliest, fakest smile and walked over to stand right behind Lexa. She placed a very obvious hand on Lexa’s lower back, and she beamed, smug and proud when Lexa turned her head and smiled at her.

“Mugshots’ best baristas. Been together since we started,” Clarke boasted, intentionally using very vague terminology.

The woman glanced down at Clarke’s hand before wetting her lips and addressing Lexa. “What’s your favorite,” she leaned forward, pretending to read Lexa’s name tag when Clarke knew for a fact that it was easily legible from across the counter. What would be the point of name tags if a customer couldn’t read them at a distance? None. There would be no point. This woman was just using it as an excuse to lean her elbows on the counter and push her cleavage up and on display.

“Lexa?” she finally finished her stupid question.

Clarke scoffed internally because she knew Lexa. Lexa had standards. She wouldn’t fall for this atrocious display. But then she caught Lexa’s quick glance down, and Clarke literally took a surprised step backwards.

“Well, I-”

“How does a nice warm vanilla latte sound?” Clarke interrupted as an idea sprang into her head. She had to do something because Clarke liked Lexa, and this woman was clearly challenging her.

Clarke Griffin did not go down without a fight. So she smiled again and replaced her hand around Lexa’s waist.

“Lexa is actually getting quite good at her latte art, but between you and me-” Clarke leaned conspiratorially close to the customer- “she needs all the practice she can get.”

Lexa scoffed and smacked Clarke on the shoulder, right on cue, “I’m getting better!”

“That you are,” Clarke winked and turned back to the woman with a triumphant grin.

“A vanilla latte sounds perfect, thank you.”

Lexa handled the money while Clarke started the espresso and steamed milk.

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me pour latte art for an actual customer right now,” Lexa whined, her eyes wide with nerves. “You know I’m not ready for this. My hearts are still coming out all lizards! It’s embarrassing.”

Clarke handed the cup of espresso and milk to Lexa. “Hey, practice makes perfect, right?”

“Yes,” Lexa rolled her eyes.

“But,” Clarke leaned in close, on the outside it would appear as if she was just trying to keep her voice from reaching the waiting customer who was still staring up and down Lexa’s body, but in reality, it was just an excuse to put her lips within inches of Lexa’s ear. “If you would like me to help you, all you have to do is ask.”

Clarke stood up straight, and Lexa nodded fervently. The motion caused her glasses to slide a tiny bit down her nose, but before she could set the espresso down to free a hand, Clarke slid her finger up the bridge of Lexa’s nose, pushing the frames back into place.

Lexa’s cheeks pinked as Clarke placed her hand on Lexa’s. She didn’t wrap her whole body around her like before, that’d probably be a little too much given the present company, but she wasn’t shy in guiding Lexa’s fingers. They worked in perfect unison, and the smile on Lexa’s face as a charming heart appeared in the coffee was worth the pain and jealousy of a million random women flirting with Lexa.

The customer placed a few dollars into the tip jar and hurried out of the shop with her heart-adorned vanilla latte. Lexa followed her out and locked the door behind her.

“Ready to close up?”

“Finally!” Clarke threw her hands in the air, and her heart burst with pride as Lexa giggled at her overly dramatic antics.

“Let’s hurry up then,” Lexa smirked and began her closing checklist.

Clarke rushed through the first part of the list, her heart pounding harder and harder as the adrenaline began to course through her body. She was so close to finally asking Lexa out, and all the little smiles Lexa shot her as they cleaned and wiped down the tables, had Clarke soaring.

Lexa felt it. Clarke knew it to be true deep in her soul.


	3. Lexa, Part II

Lexa kept her back to the door as it squeaked open, choosing to finish tying her apron instead of greeting the intrusion. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Clarke. She could tell from the way her feet fell on the tile in a perfect rhythm. She could smell the subtle tropical florals from Clarke’s shampoo as the wind from the outside rustled her hair. She could hear the soft chuckle as Clarke undoubtedly found the white helmet sitting in her cubby.

“It’s mine now?”

Lexa pulled the bow tight and turned, pushing her glasses up her nose after they slid down a fraction. “It’s better to keep it inside,” Lexa smiled. “Won’t get too hot from baking in the sun.”

“You’re so considerate,” Clarke smirked. She pushed past Lexa, letting their shoulders brush and clocked in with an adorable impersonation of an owl, fingers up around her eyes and everything.

“I keep mine in here. It’s only fair the one you use is treated the same,” Lexa crossed the room and tied Clarke’s apron without prompt. Her fingers brushed against her lower back, but Lexa didn’t startle away as quickly as she usually did. She let her hand linger a moment, smoothing down the knot.

She’d grown bold, it would appear, since last Friday. Not that it was a complete surprise. She’d always felt confident while driving her scooter; it was necessary. While it was no motorcycle, there was still an element of danger involved with riding on two wheels when surrounded by people who barely paid attention to the cars around them, let alone a scooter. Lexa had long ago learned to turn off her self doubts as soon as that helmet came on.

So driving Clarke home on her scooter was easily the best worst decision she’d ever made. It felt so good to have Clarke wrapped so tightly around her. So good, it made every indecent thought that popped into her head feel like a betrayal of Clarke’s trust.

She was just holding on to feel safe, and there Lexa was, her mind racing on and on about what it would feel like to have those very arms draped around her without a pesky clothing barrier. And here she was again, having thoughts she shouldn’t about a woman who was no more than a friend.

Except Clarke did lean in unnaturally close when she hugged her goodbye. Her breath did tickle Lexa’s neck as she whispered a quite forward suggestion. And her eyes were definitely darker and hungrier than Lexa had ever seen.

Lexa stepped back and removed her hand, more baffled than she’d ever been about her relationship with Clarke. “All done,” she whispered.

Clarke turned around, and there it was again. That same look she had in her eyes on Friday evening. That same intense gaze piercing her very soul.

But there was no way Clarke meant it how Lexa ached for it to mean. She probably just had something on her face. So Lexa cleared her throat and removed her glasses, cleaning them on the hem of her shirt.

She welcomed the brief few moments of reprieve from dazzling sapphire eyes, faultlessly placed beauty marks, wavy blonde hair that fell out of a messy bun, and alluring pink lips that parted in a dangerously sexy pout.

When she slid her glasses back up her nose, Clarke had her head cocked to the side and a smoldering smile on her face. “Well, I can’t wait to be all done here.”

Lexa’s heart leapt into her throat. “What?” she panicked. “You’re quitting? Please don’t quit. You’re practically the only person here who I actually feel like I can talk to.”

“Lexa,” Clarke grabbed her rapidly flailing arms and tugged, pulling Lexa close. Her face was inches from Clarke’s as she stared directly into her eyes. “I’m not quitting, you dork. I can’t wait for our shift to be done, so I can hop on the back of your scooter again.”

Lexa wanted to hide behind her hands to avoid the utter embarrassment etched on her face, but Clarke held onto her arms, keeping her close. Clarke kept her gaze locked on Lexa for another second before releasing her and backing away. “If we don’t get out there now though, Kane might lay us off. But don’t worry,” she shrugged. “If we get fired, I’ll follow you to the next coffee shop. You won’t be rid of me that easily, Woods.”

With that, Clarke spun on her heel and left Lexa standing alone in the back room, completely flustered and still completely befuddled about their relationship.

*******

“Do you need any help with that?” Lexa leaned over Clarke’s shoulder as she drew another perfect cup of coffee on the chalkboard.

“You draw?” Clarke bit her tongue between her teeth, a trait Lexa had grown to expect whenever she concentrated on something, yet knowing it would happen didn’t stop the torrent of butterflies from erupting.

Lexa cleared her throat to make sure her voice came out as normal as possible, “No.”

Clarke chuckled and shook her head, “Thanks for the offer, but I got this. Why don’t you go ahead and relax on the couch in the back room? I’ll be done in a minute.”

Lexa glanced at the board and worried her lip. It seemed rude to just leave Clarke all alone out here while she finished the final closing task of the day.

“Lexa,” Clarke patted her shoulder. “Go on. I’m almost done. I promise. Go read or study for a few minutes.”

“I can wait with you out here. Keep you company.”

Clarke’s smile was one she’d never seen before. All soft and warm, as if a thousand lovely things were racing through Clarke’s mind, but all she could do was smile because no words could even compare.

“You are just about the sweetest person I’ve ever met,” Clarke sighed. “But I’ll actually finish faster without the temptation to talk and stare at you.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Go on,” Clarke nudged her towards the door. “Get out of here. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Lexa huffed but turned around and headed for the back room. Her hand was on the doorknob when she froze. She glanced over her shoulder.

Clarke hunched over the chalkboard again, tongue stuck between her teeth as she sketched away, and Lexa gaped. Clarke had said she didn’t want the temptation to stare at her, right? Why would Clarke be tempted to do that? Friends don’t do that.

Lexa forced herself through the door before her brain exploded from trying to figure out what it all meant. She hastily clocked out, grabbed a book from her bag, and settled herself on the couch. But the words all blurred together, and all she could see was Clarke’s hand on her waist when she tended to that last customer. All she could feel was the way her skin hummed as Clarke whispered into her ear. All she could think about was how her fingers fit so perfectly with Clarke’s as they poured latte art.

After re-reading the same sentence approximately seventy-eight times, Lexa gave up the pointless distraction and tossed her book to the side. She bounced her foot on the floor as her mind replayed every little encounter she’d had with Clarke in the past few months.

So many side glances, soft touches, flirty remarks, and not to mention the way Clarke went all alpha dog on that customer this evening. She might as well have stapled a sign on Lexa’s forehead that read:

_CLARKE’S  
_ _BACK OFF!_

Not that it would have been necessary. Lexa really was only interested in one person. The person who was so patient in teaching her how to draw hearts with microfoam, who made her laugh with a single funny face, who kissed her cheek whenever they said goodbye, who most definitely was just as interested in Lexa.

The very same person who pushed open the back door.

Clarke had her head down as she pulled the apron off and tossed it in the bin in the corner. She didn’t notice Lexa stand in a flurry of wild, adrenaline-infused limbs, and she certainly didn’t notice the earth-shattering epiphany that just detonated in Lexa’s brain.

Lexa prided herself on being intelligent, so how could she have been so stupid? How could she have rationalized all the signs for so long when it was clear as day?

“Are you okay?”

Lexa stared back at Clarke, startled at the sudden sound of her voice.

“I’m sorry it took me a little longer than I wanted, but it’s all done now,” Clarke shrugged with a smirk.

Lexa swallowed down the lump in her throat and cursed herself for her utter lack of communication skills at the most inopportune moment.

Clarke knitted her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. “Did something happen?”

And with those three words and a soft hand on her cheek, she knew. Lexa knew that she couldn’t wait any longer. She shook her head with a sweet smile and grabbed Clarke’s hand in her own.

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, something happened. But a good something. A great something,” Lexa smiled.

“Okay,” Clarke tsked. “You’re being weird, but I’ll let it slide this time.” She gave Lexa one last keen look before stepping backwards. “Let me just clock out, and then we can go.”

Lexa stood there, stock-still as Clarke walked the short distance across the room. Now. Now was her chance. Now, Lexa. NOW!

Lexa pushed her glasses up her nose, holding them in place as she gave herself a determined nod. Her heart hammered in her chest as she approached Clarke. Adrenaline coursed through her body, not from fear or anxiety this time, but from anticipation. She reached her hand out, it hovered inches above Clarke’s shoulder, she was ready.

But no words came. Nothing. Lexa stood there prepared to confess how she felt, but she was as inarticulate as a two-year-old. So her body took over. That hand that hovered reached down. Her fingers curled around Clarke’s neck. She leaned in.

Respect was important, but so was honesty. And honestly, all she wanted to do was kiss Clarke Griffin. So her lips grazed perfectly soft ones, and a faint shutter clicked indicating Clarke had successfully clocked out. She’d have to beg for Kane’s forgiveness for this eyeful, but that was a problem for another day.

Right now, she didn’t care. Right now, she was kissing the woman she’d been in love with for months, and that woman had just wrapped her hand around her waist and pulled them impossibly close. They parted after a moment, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

“I had this whole thing planned,” Clarke breathed, her voice gruff and so tantalizing that Lexa couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. She leaned in and pressed another long, languid kiss to Clarke’s lips.

“What plan?” Lexa brushed their noses together because she could, and the extra point of contact grounded her in the moment reminding her that Clarke really was there and holding her and willingly touching her back.

“I was going to wait until you dropped me off, then I was going to ask you out-”

“You were going to ask me out tonight?” Lexa pulled back far enough to look at Clarke without going all cross-eyed.

“Yep,” Clarke chuckled. “And then when you said yes, I’d lean in and kiss you. But it looks like you jumped right over any sort of chitchat and straight to the music swelling, camera sweeping, epic happy ending kiss, didn’t you?”

Lexa bit her lip as she felt that flush creep up from her neck. She really had just leapt over any normal sort of dialogue and gone for the big moment, which was entirely unlike her. Just before her brain spiraled straight into self-doubt and what-ifs and should-haves, Clarke brought her hand up to her cheek, centering her.

“Nah ah, don’t go there. Don’t you dare think that you did something wrong,” Clarke slid her thumb along her jaw, and Lexa fluttered her eyes shut, leaning into the soft touch. “You’re the most amazingly wonderful person I’ve ever met, and I kinda love that you were the one who kissed me first. Always full of surprises.”

Clarke kissed her this time, and it was just as music swelling, camera sweeping, and epic happy ending-like as the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all (I'm looking at you, @halffoolhalfempty) enjoyed this fluffy, pining little fic!   
> Thanks for taking the time to read it and leave comments and kudos. I know you all have heard it before, but it really does make my day. 
> 
> Until next time!  
> -EMM

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta, @halffoolhalfempty on tumblr, for asking for a Clexa fic inspired by I Push Up My Glasses (www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5h_4btu3mE) and for basically being my biggest cheerleader for this one.
> 
> Also, shout out to the USWNT for adding that fourth star today!!!! Brilliant tournament with a brilliant result. Here's to hoping that you superheroes get the respect and pay that you deserve.  
> Sorry, not sorry for that. It had to be said.


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